And now, in their debut film A Day In The Life…. Lauren and Aubree Sawyer…. Enjoy!
COMING SOON!
The Trouble with Facebook…
The trouble with facebook is that it can very very slowly make you crazy. I signed up for an account after feeling left out of the loop – everyone seemed to know what was going on in “the world” before me. I’d hear “did you see that Andy changed his status to single?”, and “Jena posted pictures of her shower, they are so good!” and of course I didn’t understand what they were talking about. That was a few years ago. Reluctantly I joined, creating an account which divulged my favorite quotations, where I went to school, and what TV shows I was interested in watching (come to think of it -I haven’t updated my all important profile page since creating it, so I KNOW it is as outdated as tightrolling). Then, I didn’t log in except for after significant events had transpired to see the photographic evidence. I rarely looked at pages besides those who were in my immediate circle of friends. Several months passed and I had some time on my hands, so I started to see what else was out there. Whoa – no one told me you could find out what female character from Grease you were (facebook says I am Cha-Cha, but
I think that better characterizes my sister…). I also learned the power of the poke, how to give free “gifts”, and monitor the birthday of all those I’d “friended”. So… I started logging on to facebook maybe once a week or once every other week – when I could spare an extra four hours out of my daily life. I knew better than to get on more often. Even when I was just going to log on to check my inbox, I would inevitably have it open the rest of the night. Okay, all of the aforementioned experiences were on a DESKTOP computer. Imagine how my life changed this spring when my new laptop was available. I started to log on to facebook regularly – post status updates, throw snowballs, and grow a garden. then it happened – I had been riding the fence for awhile, but I knew I was crazy when I started searching for people that I hadn’t friended, and wouldn’t friend, just to SPY ON THEM. Okay – that’s it – the first step is admitting you have a problem – well, looking up old flames, old friends, and the crazy girl who lived down the hall from me in college is not only a waste of my time, but also just sad. Why do I care what their lives are like now – I’m busy enough trying to take care of my own life to wonder about theirs….right? Hold on…. sorry I have to go now… my exboyfriend’s sister’s cousin just posted that she had a great time this weekend with Alan… I gotta see what is going on, and who Alan is.
I’d like to believe
I’d like to believe…
I’d like to believe that everyone has the best of intentions, that politicians are honest and using their political superpowers to truly represent the will of the people they represent – that is what I teach my students after all.
I’d like to believe that my daughters will never have their hearts broken, that they will always make the right choice, and that they will lead idyllic lives – never burdened by the serious problems of the world.
I’d like to believe that I always know exactly the right thing to say – to my friend, hundreds of miles away, going through the most challenging time of his life – to my daughters when they ask those questions that are so tough to answer – to my self, when I need to be talked into or out of something, when my thoughts wander to “what-if” land.
I’d like to believe that my father isn’t a selfish, hateful, abuser who treated my mother, sister, and I like dirt and then abandon us to start his “real” family -just when a girl needs her dad the most in life -and I mostly wish I could burn every picture, every song, every hiding place where he lingers, haunting me throughout my life. I’d like to believe that I have never done anything to hurt or damage anyone the way that I have been hurt and damaged.
I’d like to believe that I am a good friend – though I know that is not the case. If it were, I wouldn’t be so absorbed in the rigamarole of my own life to even pick up the phone and spend the evening gossiping, laughing, and confessing with the wonderful people who I am able to maintain somewhat of a friendly relationship with. Do I have a friend who I truly know? Is it possible to be driven professionally, a devoted wife, an involved mother, and a good friend? I’d like to believe that it is, but I haven’t been able to wrap all those titles into my identity at the same time. Last night on the radio a trivia contest revealed that a person has a whole new set of friends every seven years. Think back, who were you friends with seven years ago that you are still as close with today. You probably still call them your friends, but when was the last time you acted like it? Maybe that is why the friends that I made seven years ago are starting to fade out of my life- at least I think they are.
The truth is I’d like to believe that I am the best at everything and humble at the same time. That I can handle all that comes my way and still have something to contribute to life. That the ghosts that continually haunt me will eventually fade away for good, allowing me to finally be free.
Ode to Lola
Jet black hair,
shiny,
silky,
greying slightly under your chin.
Beautiful dark eyes,
tearing,
begging,
silently asking for attention.
You sit on your chair each morning
staring out the window in silence.
I wonder what you are thinking about.
Feeling guilty that I haven’t taken you out.
I say a quick goodbye and just barely make it over the threshold when…
Bark
Jump
Crash
You come crashing through the glass
expecting to catch that squirrel dancing on the tree.
Oh Lola!!!
Take a picture….
She walked into the classroom on that hot august day with her eyes forced down on the ground. She loved her mama too much to tell her the truth – she’d rather endure the sting of embarrassment than to break her mama’s heart. At first it was only a giggle from the kids across the room, standing by the window gossiping. Then, like a wave, the laughter grew louder and louder until it crashed, pulling her under, tossing her this way and that in its furious flow. Why did she agree to let her mama do her hair???
A Place Close to My Heart
Walk in through the back door and you’ll see the naked walls bearing the pink insulation, which is slowly dripping off of the walls and leaking down from the ceiling. Cans of paint are stacked up along the wall, dried drips of color revealing the hues inside. You’ll smell the sawdust and hear the hum of monologues buzzing around the room. Someone from upstairs shouts, “Has anyone seen my pants?” and Bohemian Rhapsody streams up from the basement.
I Am From…
I am from four wheeler rides and wienie roasts
I am from sitting outside on a hot sumer night naming the stars
I am from lawnchairs precariously perched in the back of an econoline van.
I am from sawdust and lacquer
I am from “leaping lizards”, CPK, and Care Bears.
I am from Journey, Aerosmith, and Aretha.
Music
How a good piece of music speaks to me…
I used to listen to it all the time, but lately not so much. Covered in dust my c.d. collection sits, while the Disney Princess Collection cannot seem to vacate the car stereo system. I swear I can hear “Kiss the Girl” everywhere I go… don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of good disney songs – I secretly smile whenever a request for “So This is Love” come from the backseat. When will the girls be old enough to enjoy the songs of my youth? Lauren absolutely HATES it when I listen to anything on the radio with a strong backbeat, she cries for awhile and then plugs her ears and sings Twinkle Twinkle to herself – wow, what have I done to this child…. In the meantime, Imagination Movers is my new favorite group and Choo Choo Soul comes in at a close second!
In the car, in the house, while working in the garage… music was always there – playing in my head, making me feel like crying, like dancing, or like snuggling up and just relaxing. When it first came out, I listened to the Live, Throwing Copper CD on repeat throughout the night because of the way it helped me to wind down. At the age of thirteen, I couldn’t stand still because a song would wind its way into my brain and infect my feet with its rhythm. When times are tough, I turn to a song to make me feel less like the only person in the world to ever feel this way. I made a playlist when the girls were born and put into the NICU for two weeks. I listened to it relentlessly and although some would say that I was wallowing in my darkest fears, I saw it as cathartic, a way of healing and allowing myself to feel. I have a hard time with that – feeling. It is easier not to feel. Writing my aunt Jean’s eulogy was troubling to me – I think because I wasn’t allowing myself to truly FEEL the grief. Would you believe that listening to a certain selection of about eight songs instantly opened up my heart and as I cried harder than I had in years, the words came pouring out. Music is my release -the doorway to my creativity – the way for me to get out of my own way. It conjures up deep memories. There are songs that can actually put a certain scent into my nose. Musicians are storytellers and they provide the push that I need to be a storyteller as well!
3 AM – Tiffanys group
If you get done early – please look at the video for Hold On, the same lesson you are using will work for this song as well!
